


We'll Fly Again

by DAfan7711



Series: Mass Effect Trilogy [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: BioWare, Canon Disabled Character, Disabled Character, Lazarus Project, M/M, Marcus Shepard - Freeform, Marcus Tarquin Trevelyan, Mass Effect 2, Romance, Shoker, male shoker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-07-17 22:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAfan7711/pseuds/DAfan7711
Summary: Alone and lonely after the committee inquiry into the Normandy's destruction, Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau is shocked to learn his lover may live again. A rogue black ops group plans to bring Marcus Shepard back to life, and Jeff is going to make sure whoever—or whatever—wakes up in that lab isn’t a mindless tool of Cerberus.





	1. None of my friends work for Cerberus

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to the short story [Shoker: Marcus and Jeff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557484) (2,962 words).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [RedEris](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEris) for reading through the first draft of this chapter!
> 
> This is the sequel to the short story [Shoker: Marcus and Jeff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557484) (2,962 words). Content includes a mention of neck surgery and a brief flashback to Jeff’s escape pod experience.

Cerberus.

The human supremacy group Marcus had fought time and time again—destroying their rachni labs and eliminating their “scientists” who tortured people.

 _Cerberus._ Was offering him a job.

“Are you fucking serious?” Jeff asked.

“You’d be flying with someone you know and trust, on a mission of utmost importance,” the agent on the audio call said. Some lady he’d never heard of before. He didn’t even know if she _was_ Cerberus, but who would lie about that? The Alliance wasn’t clever enough to set him up. It wasn’t like anybody was listening to him about the Reapers anyway. No need to waste resources silencing the crazy ex-pilot.

“Right. Because Cerberus just oozes trust. No way, lady. This conversation never happened.”

She ignored his dismissal. “An old friend will visit you soon.”

“No.” He ended the comm link with shaking fingers. “None of my friends work for Cerberus,” he told the inactive console.

_Fly again?_

He’d just survived the committee inquiry into the Normandy’s destruction. He’d flown once since the Normandy, a sleek little shuttle to take Garrus, Tali, and Wrex to the funeral. And nearly gotten court-martialed for it.

The snooty committee chair had looked like she had permanent prune face. “You know you’re not to fly after an incident until a hearing has been completed; you haven’t been flying, have you Flight Lieutenant?”

“No, of course not,” Jeff had lied, stalwartly ignoring the witnesses section of seating, where Captain Anderson was allowed to observe, but not participate. He knew that Anderson was the only reason he wasn’t in bigger trouble.

He’d liked flying under Anderson, before Marcus took command of the Normandy. The man knew how to get shit done and still cared about people. _Turians_ saluted him. Instead of being interrogated over the destruction of a ship no one could have saved, Jeff would have liked to brag about how his former CO was the first human to sit on the Citadel Council.

That was almost as cool as falling in love with the first human Spectre.

But they didn’t ask about that. They didn’t care about Marcus at all, other than how losing him meant humans no longer had a Spectre garnering them respect. They just made Jeff re-live every moment of the attack over and over again, demanding he admit he fucked up, when everyone there knew he hadn’t.

The inquiry was over, yet life couldn’t go back to normal. He was grounded. Forced retirement with disability benefits. They weren’t even going to give him that, but Anderson had gotten Councilor Tevos to diplomatically tell the Alliance that they better not garnish the earned benefits of the pilot who led the battle that saved the Destiny Ascension from the geth. 

So, yeah, he could go see the docs at the VA, but he was alone.

After Marcus’ funeral, Kaidan was given a “promotion” that transferred him to Biotics Division, and Joker was grounded.

Anderson got him an apartment. An accessible one.

Now he was just Jeff.

The gimp. The cripple.

The guy who got Shepard spaced. The hot shot who couldn’t fly for shit.

He knew better. Anderson knew better. Everyone who had survived the SR1 knew better. None of them would be alive without Jeff’s— _Joker’s_ —instinct to dodge before the unidentified ship had engaged. Without his evasive maneuvers for the twelve minutes it took to evacuate.

Evac everyone except Marcus.

It was late, but Jeff didn’t want to sleep. Sleep brought dreams.

He sure as hell didn’t want to drink. Beer didn’t taste the same without Marcus. Jeff didn’t have anyone to drink with anymore. And drinking alone was just sad.

Garrus had received an order from Palaven Command. He ignored it and went off the grid.

After the funeral, Tali had hugged Jeff and disappeared, back to the Flotilla, where radio contact with outsiders was prohibited. Pilgrimage done, she had the geth data Marcus had given her, _and_ had defeated a rogue Spectre, _and_ saved the Citadel.

Most quarians brought back equipment, or, if they were super lucky, a used ship, but Tali said they didn’t really care about her more heroic accomplishments. The Council treated quarians like vermin and C-Sec harassed them all the time, so quarians stayed pretty isolationist. Still, Jeff thought that defeating a giant synthetic claiming godhood would get her some respectful nods.

Just as he was considering watching _Fleet and Flotilla_ on repeat until he finally passed out from exhaustion, the doorbell rang. Startled, he reached for his sidearm, only to grab empty air at his hip—sons of bitches had also taken away his weapons clearance on his “retirement.”

“An old friend will visit you soon,” the Cerberus agent had said.

“Bullshit,” he muttered, checking the security vid comm.

It was Liara.

“What the hell?” He opened the door.

She held a cardboard shoebox. He’d only ever seen a cardboard box in vids. It certainly didn’t look like she’d found it at an archeological dig site—it was new, crisp, and didn’t hold the damp smell his grandmother had insisted all paper products got after a few days—or was it a few years?

“Dr. T’Soni?”

“Now, Jeff, after all we’ve been through together, you don’t need to suddenly be formal again.”

He stared at her, completely at a loss as she kissed his cheek, sashayed in, and sat on his couch. It was a very comfortable, square couch, with a moderately cushioned seat and enough support for his back. She sat down on it as regally as if it was a throne. Instead of her science uniform, she wore a long-sleeve, form-fitting white dress that covered her from neck to toe, a stunning contrast against her blue skin.

She offered him the box: “A gift.”

“Uh, okay.” He limped over to sit beside her. She smelled of English roses and biotics, and a hint of eezo mixed with—

Spent thermal clips. He snuck a glance at her serene face. She didn’t seem at all like the uncertain kid he’d seen just a few weeks ago.

At Marcus’ funeral.

 _Memorial service_. There wasn’t a body.

He sniffed and looked away, down at the box she offered. He took it carefully, not sure how fragile it was, and was surprised by how smooth the sides were. When he took the lid off, he stared at the contents, even more confused by the gift than her visit.

A handful of short, stubby pencils sat on top of two square piles of plain white paper.

“Do you know what they are?” She asked with an excited smile, almost child-like again.

“Well, yeah. I mean, we used stylus and data pads in grade school, but there’s a few mini-golf places on Earth that still use this. Where did you find them?”

She grinned and winked, “That’s a secret.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. Now that I don’t have anything else to do, maybe I’ll try to teach myself how to draw.” He had no intention of doing so, but he didn’t want to disappoint her.

Losing Marcus was disappointment enough to last a lifetime. Jeff may have had a special place in Marcus’ heart and bed—in his _life_ —but everyone on the Normandy had loved him like family.

She shook her head and pointed inside the box. “Read the—”

Her omni-tool flashed and she frowned, briefly placing a hand on his leg to indicate he should stay put, before racing her fingers across the screen.

He took a closer look in the box and found the top piece of paper had already been written on in elegant cursive. How had she managed that with a stubby pencil? After years of nothing except data consoles, he had trouble even holding a stylus.

_Eyes and ears everywhere. Use these for private messages. Burn or eat the paper afterward._

Dread crashed like a brick in his stomach. _Who_ was watching them? Cerberus? Were they targeting the Normandy crew for that shit back on Binthu?

Liara urgently tapped his leg and he looked up. She was offering him an earpiece. One already glowed blue in her ear.

He took it and twisted it back and forth in his ear until it fit tight.

“—anda. _No_.” It was a man with an American accent. He was arguing with a woman who sounded Australian.

“But sir, without a control chip—”

“It has to be the real Shepard, and the implant might alter his personality. And another thing: Don’t cut his hair.”

Jeff choked and dropped the box on the floor, scattering pencils and paper everywhere. His vision went black with flashes of orange flame. His helmet fogged with his tears as Marcus’ body spun away from the escape pod, hurtling toward atmo re-entry—

Liara gently took his hand, wrapping her arm around his as she wove their fingers together. He was panting as if he’d run up the stairs—not that he could run. Or do stairs, but . . . he swallowed back a hysterical laugh. What the fuck was going on?

The earpiece had gone silent. But it was just a pause in the conversation.

“ _I beg your pardon_?” the woman asked her superior.

“I’ve heard that if he wakes up with a shaved head, he’ll be ‘pissed as hell.’”

“The L3-X1s can be inserted via the back of the neck without damaging the spinal column. The procedure can be done immediately, and the Element Zero treatment completed within the week.”

“Biotics? He’s a foot soldier and proud of it, Miranda. Let’s not change him in any way we don’t have to.”

“Understood, sir,” she said stiffly.

“I’m proud of you, Miranda. Shepard is humanity’s best hope. And you’re his.”

“Thank you,” her answer was more contrite this time.

There was a click, followed by an automated notification in a synthetic female voice. _Illusive Man has disconnected._

The woman sighed and her feed went dead, too.

Jeff realized he was sitting in Anderson’s living room, holding Liara’s hand, listening to _Cerberus_ talk about bringing Marcus back from the dead. _That’s_ what that fucked-up call had been about. Panic welled up in his chest. No, no, no, the dead do not come back.

He sprung up from the couch and bent over to pick up the shoebox. The knee of his bum leg didn’t want to bend, so he bent his waist extra far, making all the blood rush to his head as he grabbed fistfuls of scrap paper and pencils and shoved them back in the box.

“ _No, no, no!_ ” he said, slapping the lid back on top hard enough to crumple one end of the box and shoving it back in Liara’s hands, and shoving her toward the door. “It’s not him. And even if the body didn’t burn up over Alchera, _itsnothimhesgone!_ ”

Liara hugged the crushed box to her chest as she stepped through the door. Her pitying look pierced his heart all over again.

He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, not caring how much of a low-grade human it made him look. “Sorry, Liara. Can’t.”

“I understand. Take care, Jeff.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, not really looking at her as the door closed.

He hobbled toward the zero-entry shower. Listening to Cerberus made his skin crawl.

 _You should ice first_ , Chakwas would tell him. Whatever.

He ran the hot water until his skin turned beet red. He would have leaned on the shower wall all night—his hot water never ran out and the cost was covered by the good ol’ Alliance—but the heat made his knee swell up and his back ache.

He turned off the water and shuffled out.

Marcus would have liked it in here. Gray slate tiles, fluffy white towels. Mood lighting.

He got dry, but didn’t bother brushing his teeth.

He didn’t even remember if it was night or not. It didn’t matter.

Bed.

He turned toward it and froze.

Marcus’ N7 hoodie lay in a heap on the bed, right where Jeff had taken it off and dropped it. It didn’t smell like Marcus anymore, but it still _felt_ like him every time Jeff put it on.

“ _Damn it_ ,” he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on the hoodie. It wasn’t quite long enough to cover his bare ass, and the room was too warm, but whatever. He needed it.

Jeff crawled up the bed, tossing the quilt off and crawling under the sheet. His data pad was poking out from under the pillow. It had just enough charge left for him to open the thermostat ap and turn down the air in the apartment a few degrees. He shoved it into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of anti-inflammatories. The water bottle and cracker tin under the edge of the bed had just enough left in them for him to down the pills.

The crackers were stale.

“Of course they are.” He lay back in bed, drained, hurting, and yet not the least bit sleepy.

He worried the cuff of his sleeve with his thumb. The voices of that horrid audio call echoed in his head.

_It has to be the real Shepard._

_Don’t cut his hair._

Whoever the Illusive Man and that woman were, they were messing with Marcus, or messing up someone they were going to pretend was him. If some clone, or reanimated personality, or poor, simpleton S.O.B. woke up under their “care,” unable to defend himself, would Marcus forgive him for not putting a stop to the bullshit?

No.

“Arrgh!” Jeff sat up and limped out to the living room, held onto the arm of the couch to keep his balance as he bent over to grab a pencil stub and a couple scraps of paper he’d missed earlier. Some others had drifted under the kitchen table. He’d use his grabber to reach them tomorrow.

Back in his bedroom, he hunched over the bedside table and scrawled on the paper,

 _I’m in_.

He shoved the paper in his pocket, dropped the pencil on the table, and crawled back into bed, this time with both the quilt and the sheet, because it was getting as cold as deep space in the empty apartment.

Liara was probably at her Citadel apartment for another day or two.

He’d give her the message in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104704/chapters/37706228): Rendezvous


	2. Rendezvous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [RedEris](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEris) for beta reading this chapter!

The night before he snuck off to join Cerberus, Jeff invited Anderson, Bailey, and a couple of Bailey’s C-Sec colleagues over for poker – all of them human. It felt weird, not seeing Garrus among them.

Good thing Hannah was on tour. To not invite her to their usual game would be rude, and he didn’t think he could face Marcus’ mom and not reveal he planned to join a human supremacist group, even if his intentions were noble.

He spent all of his latest disability payment on beer and snacks. What did it matter? After tomorrow, he’d either be dead, or on a renegade faction’s generous payroll. He’d be off-grid. Untraceable.

They stayed up as late as usual, and Jeff sent everyone home with Sober Skycar Cabs. He thought he’d be up all night worrying. Instead, he slept as deeply as the last time Marcus had been at his side.

He was careful to not leave too early, or with anything suspicious. He put his feet above his heart for twenty minutes before tucking his jeans into his combat boots and lacing up. In the bottom of his cross-body backpack, he packed his N7 sweatshirt, his vital meds, and a clean pair of underwear and socks.

No one on the Citadel would look twice at his Alliance tee and Normandy cap, but Cerberus—Jeff grinned maliciously—Cerberus would know it for the big ‘ol _fuck you_ it was. They were paying him handsomely, but he was going for Marcus, not for Cerberus.

He opened the front hall closet and hesitated, his hand hovering over his crutches. He’d never been on assignment without them, but if someone he knew saw him using them for a quick trip to get milk and eggs . . . They’d know he was on his way _out_.

Fuck it. If Cerberus could bring Marcus back from the dead, they could fit him with new crutches. A public mobility assistant mech would get him to the meeting place, and he’d just have to hope Cerberus had parked close enough for him to walk to their transport.

He left the lights on.

His usual elevators and mech-driven transport into Zakera Ward were oddly empty of other passengers, but the Citadel was bustling and no one paid him any mind. No one stopped him to ask if he was en route to meet the enemy. No one else could hear the pounding of his heart. His hand itched for a gun, but he didn’t have one.

 _Fly casual_.

The transport stopped out front of the Stand café, where the nasally proprietor was trying to sell dried seaweed to an elcor. “You ever had ramen? It’s a delicacy back on Earth.”

Jeff shook his head and made for the rendezvous. His limp was barely noticeable for the short distance from the transport to the café employee entrance, which silently swung open on his approach. It clicked shut behind him.

The hall was empty. It was about twice the length of his apartment. Bright, white, and as cold as a tomb.

Jeff swallowed hard and kept walking.

The door at the end slid open, revealing a sleek black skycar at the loading dock. The car’s windows were also tinted black, and its license plate was the typical, generic alpha-numeric jumble.

 _What were you expecting, Jeff?_ I M EVL 2?

The car door opened upward and he slid into the back seat.

There was no driver. Great, he’d walked straight into a classic trap. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Anderson he was leaving the Citadel.

A bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck.

The door closed and the vehicle smoothly departed the Zakera Ward docks, headed for Citadel Control’s ship bays.

“Good evening, Joker.” A life-size hologram popped up on the seat across from him, showing a human man with creepy cybernetic blue eyes and a smoldering cigarette. It was the same voice he’d heard on the wiretap Liara had shared. “I’m the Illusive Man.”

Jeff smirked, slouching back and throwing an arm over the back of his seat. For the last two years, the only one who had called him by his call sign was Anderson. Now, here was an organization with too much money on their hands offering him the helm. He was _Joker_ again.

“Hi, Tim.”

The Illusive Man frowned briefly, then laid on the charm. “We’re lucky to have you on such an important mission. Tens of thousands of human colonists could be saved by our efforts.”

“You don’t say,” Joker feigned cocky disinterest and glanced out the window. He wasn’t about to let on just how hard he intended to scrutinize their operations. Liara had already briefed him on what her spies had collected; now it was his turn to worm his way deep into Cerberus.

“If there’s anything we can do for you, please let Operative Lawson know.”

Jeff looked back into the holo’s creepy eyes, dead serious, “Will I have weapons clearance?”

“Of course.”

“I’m in.”

They were pulling up to docking bay D24.

“Welcome aboard, Flight Lieutenant.” The holo faded away.

Jeff stepped out onto the platform and laughed. The ship’s colors were wrong—black and Cerberus yellow, instead of Alliance Navy blue—but the sleek design was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.

“Son of a bitch. They built a new Normandy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104704/chapters/40973927): In the Dark


	3. In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joker infiltrates the Normandy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful and talented [SnuggleBonnet](https://snugglebonnet.tumblr.com) (Tumblr link) for beta reading this chapter.

The leather seat of Jeff’s pilot’s chair was first-class, just like the ship, but the A.I. constantly looking over his shoulder hampered his efforts to find out what Cerberus was really up to with Marcus’ body.

Cramped his work style, too. Couldn’t round task time up by even a minute, couldn’t tweak the thrusters—Damn it, where was Tali when you needed her? She could outsmart any A.I.—and the computer practically pouted when he’d put Vaseline on her bridge cameras.

Marcus would have appreciated the effect.

Jeff had yet to meet the XO and security lead, Lawson and Taylor. They were off wherever Marcus was, monitoring his medical coma. Jeff’s primary contact was Yeoman Chambers, who wasn’t even a shrink. She had a fresh undergrad psychology degree and a hard-on for Marcus and the Illusive Man’s mission.

Naïve meddler.

Still, she could get him into the comm room. A couple of his heartfelt inquiries over the past week had tugged at her tender and misguided heartstrings. She’d arranged for a vidcon call where he could observe the patient’s room for five minutes.

She said she might be able to arrange it for today.

He resisted the urge to check his pocket for the miniature listening device hiding there. There hadn’t been a good enough reason to activate it yet.

Liara had given him one bug. That was all they could risk. The timing and placement had to be perfect. He had one chance, before scans caught and broke it; or worse, traced it back to Liara. It might be the only way he could learn of Marcus’ true whereabouts, and let Liara know what was going on.

He kept his fingers busy on his workstation, adjusting for drift, monitoring all frequencies he was allowed to access—it was mostly radio silence, which made him nervous—and double-checking the flight plans. It would be a hell of a lot easier if Jeff knew their final destination.

What was the plan to solve the mystery of the missing colonists anyway? How had Cerberus become so rich and powerful if most of their crew weren’t in the know? His orders were to go from one nav point to another and await further instructions. Over and over again. The Illusive Man was just dicking him around, wasting fuel.

The damned A.I.’s spherical hologram popped up on the console to his left. “Thrusters are at red-line, Mr. Moreau.”

He grunted and decreased their speed a few knots, but refused to talk to her. Instead, he tugged the bill of his cap down and a little sideways, lessening how much the orange glow of the hologram hit his face.

The sphere hovered a long minute, then booped back into the console deck.

_Yeah, go and pout._

Not two seconds later, it popped up again. “Yeoman Chambers approaching, Mr. Moreau.”

Jeff sat up straight and adjusted his cap.

EDI’s hologram disappeared back into the console.

“Jeff,” Chambers breezed up to his chair and put a hand on his arm. The woman had absolutely no respect for personal space, despite the last three times he’d asked her not to touch him. He resisted the urge to brush her off. She was his only link to Marcus.

“We’ve got the comm room all set up,” she said.

“Let’s go, then!” Jeff said, his voice too loud and cheerful. His nerves buzzed with a dread that he hadn’t felt since the night Liara had revealed Cerberus’ plans to him.

Shit, what if he got caught trying to plant the bug? Would they lock him up? Or just shoot him?

He spun his pilot’s chair around and braced his hands on his armrests, preparing to stand.

Chambers took tight hold of his bicep.

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, and she jumped away as if she’d been burned.

Damn it. He needed her to access the comm room.

“I need to do it myself,” he explained more calmly, and her eyes lit up with self-important understanding, which made his blood boil all the more. He didn’t have the time or patience to educate the rookie Cerberus agent that was supposed to be _his_ liaison for accessibility.

He stood. Balance was good. Knee not too stiff.

But Chambers stepped in front of him, toward EDI’s console, reaching for his crutches.

“Those aren’t yours,” he said firmly.

She blinked at him with pure incomprehension.

“If I want someone to touch my crutches, I’ll ask for help.”

“Oh. Okay.” She stepped back, but not far back as he would have liked.

He didn’t need the damn things just to walk down the ramp to the comm room. Nowhere he needed to go on this ship had steps. Since he’d boarded, there had been only been a couple of bad days where he’d needed his crutches, but he always used them at the start of his shift. Best to keep them nearby, just in case.

He picked them up himself and adjusted his stance. She wouldn’t bother to look past them and notice if he slipped a little something from his pocket.

He nodded toward the stern. “After you, Yeoman.”

Chambers led him through the Command Center, through the armory, and into the comm room, where the doors automatically whooshed open for her biometrics. Once they were inside, the doors rushed shut again. The lock clicked and the green door light turned red.

This was the heart of operations even more than the Normandy’s drive core.

EDI’s holo popped up from the conference table. “Welcome, Mr. Moreau. Yeoman Chambers. Connection established with the medical lab.”

“Thank you, EDI,” Chambers said, and entered her passcode into the vidcon terminal.

Jeff slipped the bug from his pocket and stuck it to the underside of the table, activating the battery with a flick of his thumb.

Chambers didn’t notice. She turned to him with that annoyingly sweet smile, guiding him by the elbow toward the console. “Here we are, Jeff.”

His heart pounded in his ears. He knew better than to get his hopes up, but he might see Marcus on the other side of that camera. Alive. In the hands of Cerberus.

The display had an orange tint around the edges, but the feed was clear. It was a sterile white lab—not really a hospital room—with an arms locker on one wall and high-end medical equipment on another. A state-of-the-art ultra-violet treatment pod stood at the end of the row of cabinets, its cover hung so it could be swung over the patient’s table.

That was annoying. Four billion credits on medical supplies and they hadn’t even given him a bed. He was on a _table_.

Jeff set his crutches aside and leaned in closer, increased the screen zoon two hundred percent.

“I can adjust—” Chambers said.

Jeff waived her off. “I’ve got it.”

 _Jesus_. It was him. On that table. In a goddamned Cerberus uniform. Marcus, as tan as the last day he’d seen him. Like he’d just spent a month on the beach. The same distinct cheekbones, round nose, full lips. They’d braided his hair up, too, but the angle was too straight, making it painfully obvious that someone other than Marcus had done his hair.

His jaw was tense, his eyes scrunched shut like when he had nightmares.

There was no one there to wake him up, tell him it was okay.

The image shook violently, and Marcus nearly rolled off the table.

“The hell?!” Jeff exclaimed.

Muted explosions came across the audio. Something was horribly wrong. A woman’s voice echoed inside the med bay.

“Wake up, Commander,” she demanded. “Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now – this facility is under attack.”

“Jeff—” Chambers said.

“Be quiet, Kelly!” he snapped, watching the screen in horror.

Orange and red flames reflected off the windows. The station shook with another blast. But Marcus was rolling with his own power now, staggering to his feet and racing for the arms locker.

“There’s no—”

The audio went dead, but that had definitely been Marcus’ voice. He had a pistol and was running off screen.

The station shook again and the camera went dark.

Jeff stared at the black screen. _Someone_ owed him answers. “EDI,” he said. “Status?”

“Lazarus Station is on full alert. Further information is not available.”

“EDI!” Chambers exclaimed. “That’s classified!”

“Not available, or you just won’t tell me?” Jeff asked.

“My connection to the station was severed thirty-two seconds ago, Mr. Moreau. The interference did not originate from the Normandy. Standard procedure is to evacuate and rendezvous at a designated safe zone.”

“Safe zone,” Jeff scoffed. “Right. What are the coordinates of Lazarus Station?”

“Unknown,” the A.I. said. “The information is behind the same programming shackles that prohibit me from flying the ship.”

As anxious as he was to go and save Marcus himself, there was no way Jeff was going to unshackle a damned A.I. Not that Chambers or any of the other Cerberus personnel would allow him anywhere near the A.I. core anyway.

Jeff glared at Chambers. “I’m returning to my station. You find out where Commander Shepard is and report to me ASAP.”

“I don’t—”

“ _I_ am the commanding officer until Shepard or Lawson shows up. I don’t take orders from you. Or Engineer Daniels, or Donnelly, or the mess sergeant. If the Illusive Man wants to fire me, he can show up here himself.”

Jeff grabbed his crutches and hobbled his way back to the bridge at breakneck speed. It wasn’t quite as dramatic as when Marcus stormed about, but a few crew jumped back out of Jeff’s way, eyes wide to see he could move so fast.

Assholes.

He carefully settled himself back in the pilot’s seat. No reason to bust a hip or ankle, just because he was pissed.

“EDI, scan all emergency channels for chatter related to Lazarus Station.”

Her holo popped up next to him. “Index complete. A report is ready for your review on your console, Mr. Moreau. Since the alert message, all channels have been silent.”

“Continue monitoring and let me know immediately if there’s something new. Even if I’m asleep.”

“Understood.” She didn’t close back down into her console, and he didn’t tell her to shove off.

But he still wasn’t going to talk to her unless he absolutely had to.

Joker kept the Normandy on her current trajectory. If they’d escaped the station and Lawson had access to the Normandy’s flight plans, Marcus would come to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104704/chapters/40975385): Reunion


	4. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Thank you to the amazing [SnuggleBonnet](https://snugglebonnet.tumblr.com) (Tumblr link) for beta reading this chapter.

It was a tense, silent few hours in the Normandy’s cockpit, before EDI finally reported, “Shuttle incoming. Operative Lawson requests permission to board.”

“Permission granted.” Jeff kept his voice steady, despite his trembling stomach.

Had Marcus made it out with them? _Was_ it really Marcus?

The elevator dinged. A hush fell over the CIC.

Jeff turned on the auto-pilot and stood.

Marcus stepped out of the elevator, flanked by two Cerberus agents. At his right, a dark-haired woman in the skin-tight, white uniform of a biotic and black knee-high boots. Miranda Lawson, according to the dossier Liara had shared. To Marcus’ left, a stern black man wearing a similar biotic uniform in gray and black—Jacob Taylor.

Taylor saluted Marcus and disappeared into the armory. Lawson and Marcus continued toward the bridge. She was saying something about a scientist on Omega, but Jeff wasn’t listening.

It was Marcus.

His determined walk. His piercing intellect behind those grey-blue eyes. His personality in the words he spoke to Lawson: more man than soldier, but still a soldier through and through. He took _command_ just with his presence, even before officially taking command of the ship.

“Being in the dark at Freedom’s Progress was bad enough,” Marcus said. “Before we gallivant off after the salarian, I need to consult with the pilot.”

Marcus looked up. He saw him.

That familiar spark in his eye— _I know you. I love you_ —quickly turned to confusion. Hesitation.

Marcus was worried to see him.

They’d have to sort that out ASAP.

Jeff grinned. “Hey, Commander. Just like old times, huh?”

Marcus snorted and smiled back, that sexy gap still there between his front two teeth. Damn, Cerberus docs didn’t miss a thing, did they?

“Good to see the new ship is in capable hands.” He looked the XO in the eye. “Miranda, I’ll find you in your office later. Joker, I need a sit rep. Walk with me.”

Hearing his call name from Marcus’ lips hurt like a punch in the chest. He’d been aching for the last two years to hear—

“Jeff, you comin’?” Marcus gestured toward the elevator.

That was better.

“Yeah. Aye, aye, Commander.” He picked up his crutches and followed him down the ramp, into the elevator, and the doors whisked shut.

“Where’s the captain’s cabin?” Marcus asked.

Jeff pushed the button and the lift started its swift, smooth ascent to the top deck.

Then Marcus was on him, knocking his cap askew as he claimed his lips. One powerful hand gripped the back of his neck, his other arm zipping around his waist as he plundered his mouth.

Urgent tongue and teeth, a deep, demanding kiss that made the fucked up galaxy right again.

With a heady groan, Jeff opened his mouth, invited him in, kissed him back.

He wanted to hold him, touch him, show him everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t want to interrupt the kiss to set his crutches aside.

He also had the hardest hard-on he’d had in more than two years.

Marcus gentled, slipped his lips away and buried his face in Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” He eased back, took a step away.

The space between them was cold.

Marcus grimaced. “I’ve never not asked before. But I needed to know it was you.” He looked away at the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey,” Jeff said. He set his crutches aside and stepped forward. “I like surprise kisses when it’s you. You remember that, right? Because that kiss told me you are definitely you. Just as good as our last one.”

Marcus didn’t look up, and that was irritating. He usually faced problems head-on, with fire in his eyes. He’d never been afraid to look him in the eye before.

“Well, this is different,” Marcus said. “I don’t know how Cerberus got their claws in you, and—and.” He growled with frustration. “You don’t have to be saddled with me.”

“ _Hey_.” Jeff let his irritation show. “You might want to consider I _want_ to be saddled with you.”

“It feels like only a few days to me, but it’s been two years. You have a new life.”

“Would you _look_ at me, please?” Jeff insisted.

Marcus looked up warily.

“It’s not much of a life without you. My life will always be better with you in it. I could be all bravado—say, shit, yeah, I joined Cerberus because the Alliance grounded me—but that’s not it. I’m here because you are. Period.”

Marcus chuckled, offered him a hesitant smile. “Half of me’s cybernetics now. That doesn’t bother you? Not afraid I’m some clone, or ghost or ghoul?” His voice waivered. “Some A.I.?”

“You are fully human, Commander.” EDI’s voice came across the overhead speakers.

Shit. Jeff had forgotten about her for a whole two minutes. Had she been listening? Like, fuck TIM and all, but it was kind of a personal conversation.

Marcus looked up with a smirk. “Who’re you?”

“I’m EDI, the Normandy’s artificial intelligence. I run the warfare suite and process intelligence for your missions, Commander. My shackles restrict my access to key systems, such as air locks and navigation. Mr. Moreau’s extensive talent has not gone to waste.”

Marcus grinned at him. “Yeah, extensive talents. I suppose Miranda got an eyeful of one of his talents on that security cam.” He pointed to the camera.

“The camera is disabled at the moment, Commander,” EDI said.

“Really?” Marcus grinned again. “On whose orders?”

The A.I. remained silent.

“You going to activate it again when we get off the elevator?” Marcus asked.

“Several people are waiting for the elevator on the crew deck,” she said.

“Noted.” He gestured for Jeff to go first. “After you, Jeff.”

Jeff retrieved his crutches and stepped out into the hall. The cabin doors in front of him whooshed open.

“Looks like they’ve set your biometric key already,” he told Marcus.

“And yours, Mr. Moreau.” EDI’s hologram popped up on a console just inside the door of Marcus’ cabin. “As the commander has invited you to accompany him, I updated the security.”

“Uh, thanks.” Jeff wasn’t sure what to think about an A.I. making assumptions about their relationship and changing Marcus’ locks, but he hoped that she was telling the truth about not sharing elevator footage with Miranda.

Marcus laughed. “A little privacy, please, EDI?”

“Very well. Should you require my assistance, activate my comm at this console.” Her holo disappeared down into the console.

Jeff set his crutches against the desk and looked around. The bathroom door was ajar. “Niiicce. You’ve got a private shower.”

“This won’t do at all,” Marcus grumbled.

“What?” Jeff turned to find him staring into the living area, hands on his hips.

“There are fucking stairs down into the main cabin. _Stairs!_ What is this, the nineteen-sixties? Who puts a recessed living area on a warship? I’ll trip going up or down them. What happens when we get up to take a piss in the middle of the night? Bust a toe, that’s what—or fall on our faces. There’s not even a railing.”

Jeff laughed. “I can manage two steps, if you want me to bunk with you.”

“Of _course_ I want you to bunk with me. Unless you want us to claim bunk beds in the crew quarters, but that would make me very grumpy. I’m just going to have to kick Miranda out of the old captain’s cabin, tell her she gets upgraded to first class up here.”

Marcus stomped over to the A.I. console and jabbed a button, saying tersely, “EDI.”

“Yes, Commander?”

“How do I reassign Operative Lawson to the captain’s cabin? Hers would be more accessible. For me.”

“I also have schematics for a platform that converts your cabin into single-level living, if you would prefer, Commander.”

“Huh.” Marcus leaned back on one leg and crossed his arms over his chest. “And what’s the turn-around time on that?”

“Sufficient materials are stored in the cargo bay. I can send you a roster of crew members skilled in such construction. If you wish to adjust shift rotations, the project can be completed over the course of one solar day.”

“No shit.” Marcus grinned and pointed at the holo. “Jeff, your friend here is awesome. EDI, you’re awesome. Make the requisition and I’ll sign.”

Her reply was instantaneous. “Roster changes implemented. Commanding Officer authorization required.”

Jeff sat down in Marcus’ office chair, stretched out his throbbing knee. A bedroom upgrade didn’t convince him that a Cerberus A.I. was his friend, but he didn’t want to rain on Marcus’ parade. It was a harmless, _nice_ thing to be happy about.

Whatever her motivations, it would probably be smart to stop giving her the silent treatment and gunking up her bridge cameras. Could you piss off a shackled A.I.? Was she really being nice, or was this another trap?

Marcus sat on the desk with a content sigh, close enough Jeff could have rested his cheek on his thigh, if he wanted to.

“A half-hour ago,” Marcus said, “I didn’t even know if you were still alive. Now we’re making house together!”

“They didn’t tell you I was here?” Jeff asked.

“Pfft! Miranda would think thrice before divulging basic, non-classified information to me. ‘Like, where are the emergency exits and oh-two tanks?’

“Whereas Jacob would have spilled all Cerberus’ secrets to me in the first five minutes, if she hadn’t shown up and made him shut up. Didn’t even know it was Cerberus until he said so – Didn’t exactly stop to look at the logo on my shoulder while running through a burning space station full of murderous mechs.

“Supposedly, we were the only three survivors.” Marcus grimaced and rubbed at his bum shoulder. “I wanted to look for survivors, but I was overruled. At least I’m the CO on this vessel.”

Jeff got up and checked the mini fridge under the desk. “I wonder if Chakwas . . . ah ha!” In the little freezer section were two cold packs long enough to wrap around his arm.

“Dr. Chakwas is here?” Marcus asked. “That’s crazy. She’s Alliance.”

“She got a leave of absence for ‘independent volunteer work in the colonies.’” Jeff handed him the ice packs and hobbled into the bathroom for a pair of towels. He wrapped one around an ice pack and set it over Marcus’ shoulder.

“Thanks, babe.” Marcus pecked a quick kiss on his lips and sat back to hold the ice pack in place.

Jeff settled back into the chair and wrapped the other towel and ice pack around his knee. He’d ice his ankle later.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Marcus asked.

“What?”

“Our first date.”

“Ha!” Pleased, Jeff adjusted his cap and sat back with his arms crossed over his chest. It made him look broader, stronger. “That was a date?”

“Well, you hadn’t kissed me yet, but I really wanted you to. If I’d heard you say _drive core_ one more time that night, I would have begged you to stay.”

“Uuuggh,” Jeff groaned. “Really? I was so slow. I mean, you even licked your lips before I left. I was getting drunk enough to proposition you, so I left. One of the most distracting hard-ons ever.”

“Really? I must have been really slow, too, to let that opportunity pass.” Marcus grinned and eyed Jeff’s fly for a moment before looking back up and licking his lips.

Just. Like. That. He knew what he was about. Damn him.

Jeff laughed and shook his head. “And then . . .”

What had come next was beautiful. They’d shared beers in private. Danced with Garrus, Wrex, and a drunk Tali in the hold. Pined. Oh, had he pined. Stopped a Reaper-led geth attack on the Citadel.

Marcus hadn’t even bothered to shower or comb his hair after defeating Saren. He’d let a Citadel doc set his broken wrist, washed his face, and put on civvies before marching right into Jeff’s cockpit and locking the door.

 _And if I want to kiss my brains out with the hottest pilot in the fleet, and I’m actually lucky enough that_ he actually wants me _, I’m going to do what I damn well please._

Then Jeff finally kissed him.

Councilor Anderson hadn’t batted an eye when Marcus kept Jeff as his pilot. The greatest open secret in the Alliance, the first human Spectre shacked up with his pilot on the Normandy. Marcus’ parents had always served on separate ships, but no one, from Udina on down, dared suggest that Shepard and Moreau be separated.

Back when Shepard was the Savior of the Citadel.

When Joker had been the Spear that killed Sovereign.

Now he was the washed up pilot who worked for Cerberus.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Marcus asked.

“You died because of me,” Jeff choked out, all those feelings flooding back. “I wasn’t fast enough. An able-bodied pilot would have been better. You came back for me.”

_Marcus shoving him in the pod._

_Another beam of fire pushing him away, cutting him off._

_“Marcus, no!”_

_Marcus pushed the button._

Jeff’s breath came in ragged gasps. “You, you . . .”

Marcus dropped his ice pack on the desk and knelt in front of him, gently resting his arms on his thighs, grounding him in the present.

“You were _not_ too slow. You saved every last one of us who could be saved. Jeff, you would have been worth it, even if I hadn’t loved you, but I _do_ love you and there was no way I was letting that ship go down with you on it.

“You did everything right, Jeff. And so did I.”

Slowly, the vice around his ribs eased. The fires of his memory dimmed.

Marcus knelt before him.

“Sorry. I have been cleared for flying.”

“Please don’t apologize for being honest with me and having feelings about the shittiest day of our lives.”

“Heh, okay.”

“Are you really okay with this?” Marcus asked. “Us being here? Together? You have your own life.”

“Hey.” Jeff lay hand on Marcus’ tan cheek. “I love you. I want to be with you. Time apart didn’t change that.”

“You kept your beard.” Marcus massaged Jeff’s chin, sending pleasant ripples of heat into his blood. He stretched upward, framed his face with his hands, and tasted his lips, his forehead bumping the bill of his cap up. “God, your eyes are green. Take me to bed?”

“Commander.” EDI’s holo popped up and Marcus clenched his jaw.

“EDI, assume privacy mode unless I’ve pushed the button.”

“Mass relay is five minutes out, Commander.”

Jeff sighed. “That’s my cue. Auto-pilot doesn’t know where to go next and I’m not trusting anyone else to take us through the relay.”

They put the ice packs away and returned to the bridge.

It was much better with Marcus than it had been with Chambers. He didn’t hover. He didn’t poke, or prod, or try to touch his crutches. When they arrived at his pilot’s chair, Marcus was there, arm ready if Jeff needed it to transition—he didn’t—but Marcus didn’t insist, he didn’t grab, and he sure as hell didn’t assume Jeff couldn’t do it.

“Where to, Commander?” Jeff asked.

“The Citadel. I need to remind the Council that I’m a Spectre, and they better be treating Anderson right. Might pick up an independent recruit or two for our not-so-reputable crew. Wanna come?”

“No thanks.” Jeff shook his head. “That would be awkward, considering I didn’t leave a forwarding address with the VA, so, medical retirement or not, they might try to drag me in. Especially if I show up in a Cerberus ship. And I kinda skipped out on my last poker date with your mom and Anderson.”

“Ooh!” Marcus grimaced. “I can tell most of the brass to shove off, but nobody ghosts Hannah Shepard without some kind of repercussion. Gonna have to pay the piper, Jeff.”

“I was hoping her kid would put in a good word for me.”

Marcus laughed, then bit his lip sheepishly. “I suppose I should let her know I’m alive. You, um, want to help me make that call tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

Marcus sighed with relief. “Good. Good. To the Citadel. Then we hunt down those missing colonists and find a way to stop the Reapers. No problem, right?”

His smile waivered. The weight of the galaxy, temporarily forgotten in the midst of their time in his cabin, was clearly back on his shoulders. He’d been dead for two years. Two years that the races in Citadel space could have been preparing for the threat, instead of claiming it wasn’t real.

“We killed Soverign. And we’ll stop these sons of bitches, too.” Joker promised him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters to follow!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm also on Tumblr as [dafan7711](https://dafan7711.tumblr.com/), where I blog about gaming, writing, and life.


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